For Students Of Bubbles And Lovers Of Italy: Franciacorta

I suppose you could call me a student of bubbles. When it comes to sparkling wine, there’s so much to think about, and try to understand: the conditions for ripeness; the balance created by acidity; lees influence; reduction vs. oxidation; pressure levels; soil types and grape varieties; disgorgement dates–the list goes on! But that’s why it’s so fascinating. It’s like being stuck in an endless PhD program, where the crappy stipend is palliated by sip after sip of occasionally quite stunning juice. There are ways in which bubbles, when made really well, can reveal things about a place in a way that a still wine cannot, I think. There are emotional experiences to be had with beautiful bubbles. And when the dosage is kept low, and vinosity is emphasized over powerful bubbles, these wines can pair so well with food.

the biodynamically farmed vineyard at 1701 Franciacorta

This being my obsession, I gladly accepted an invitation to visit Franciacorta. This northern Italian DOCG, located just northwest of Brescia in Lombardia, probably best known for the dramatically beautiful Lake Iseo, prides itself on making high quality méthode traditionelle wines that are uniquely Italian. As in, they are not just an “alternative” to Champagne. Of course, the same grapes are involved: Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, Pinot Blanc. It’s a young region, relatively–the DOC was founded exactly 50 years ago with the goal of becoming Italy’s bubble kingdom, beyond the Charmat-method, populist Prosecco, and it became a DOCG in 1995.

From one perspective, this is a marketing challenge and a big business risk that I’m not sure I would have wagered, given both Prosecco’s and Champagne’s popularity and successful branding. But the climate of Lombardia does seem good for this kind of wine, and anyway, who says that if you decide to make sparkling wine, it needs to be about competing with other regions? Franciacorta may never be as prominent as Champagne; it may never be as beloved and saleable as Prosecco. But it’s interesting in its own right, in many ways.

Franciacorta may be a new DOCG, but this being Italy, of course, it has deep history. There are mentions of a region called “Cortes Francae” as far back as 1277, and in 1570 a physician named Dr. Conforti makes note of sparkling wine in the area, calling it “mordacious” (stinging) wine. Anyone who loves Italian food and wine and culture (MEEE!!) should be learning to appreciate Franciacorta and its small group of producers, who very widely in style, size, and terrain–it’s a region with five soil types, according to the locals. There are very large, industrial producers in Franciacorta; there are also medium-sized, organically farmed estates; there are small, slightly idiosyncratic, even biodynamic producers; and there’s at least one fiercely natural producer who, unsurprisingly, is kept outside the DOCG–that’s Cà del Vént, who, unfortunately, I was unable to visit.

One thing that sets Franciacorta apart from any sparkling wine region is that nearly every producer is adamant about using little or zero dosage at disgorgement. There is a lot of Extra Brut or Brut Nature/Zero Dosaggio Franciacorta out there to choose from, and unlike in Champagne, it’s not necessarily the most prized/expensive cuvée of the estate. It’s just what Franciacorta winemakers prefer. “Sugar for me is like a mask: a bit fake,” is how Sabrina Gozio, the hospitality manager at Castello di Gussago, phrased it. “It changes the balance of the wines” when you add too much dosage. Also unique in Franciacorta: the wines are effectively always made as single-vintage cuvées, rather than incorporating reserve wine as in Champagne.

Another idiosyncrasy about Franciacorta is this style of wine they have called “Satèn.” Essentially meant as an aperitivo wine, it’s a blanc de blancs–Chardonnnay and Pinot Blanc are both permitted–made with slightly lower pressure (5 bars is the maximum). Saten also has longer time on the lees–24 months versus 18, per DOCG rules.

Erbamat in the Barone Pizzini vineyard

A recent point of excitement in the DOCG is that an indigenous grape called Erbamat has recently been allowed into the list of permitted varieties. This is probably because some of the larger, more influential producers, like Barone Pizzini, see it as an important historical grape in the region, and want to experiment with it. Silvano Brescianini, General Manager and VP of Barone Pizzini, where 3- and 4-year old Erbamat vines are growing, says that, in early experiments, the grape appears “aromatic and high in acidity” to some tasters. Erbamat has low polyphenols and a clear/light color, he says. They’ve had some challenges getting the Erbamat vines to produce grapes consistently in their otherwise healthy, organic estate; Brescianini thinks the next step is to “find the good clone.” I look forward to returning for some taste trials!

Organic viticulture is practiced, one could say, fairly widely in Franciacorta–I met and heard of over a dozen viticulturalists and growers who had recently converted their estates, or were in the process of doing so. Sabrina at Castello di Gussago said that organic viticulture is important because families, including her own, are “living near the vineyards.” As well, it’s a question of quality: her colleague Angelo Divittini, the winery’s agronomist, explained to me that over the years, Franciacorta has experienced a “loss of natural organic substance” in its soils–and he said this was a significant problem in Italian agriculture overall. “Forty years ago, the organic matter was 4 to 5 percent,” said Antonio. “Thanks to synthetic fertilizers, we’ve lost it all.” Organic winegrowing is important because the future is at stake, as well as regional heritage: “This land is our patrimony,” he said.

But there is only a nascent biodynamic movement in the region. 1701 Franciacorta is currently the only Demeter certified estate in the DOCG. I visited the home vineyard and cellar with Marco Benedimi, their oenologist. The project was born in 2012, when Silvia and Federico Stefini, a brother and sister team, purchased the 11-hectare estate and winery from a Count. They converted it to organic first, and received Demeter certification in 2015.

All the 1701 wines, even the “Brut,” are basically zero-dosage or very low-dosage, and they are planning to change the labels soon to reflect this. We tasted mostly wines that consisted of the 2012 vintage, and had been disgorged in March 2017, with the exception of the Satèn, which was a 2013. I liked them all, finding complexity and minerality in each one, but most enjoyed the rosé, made of 100 percent Pinot Noir (like in Champagne, blending is allowed here): the nose had ripe cherries and strawberries; the palate was full of mineral notes and acidity and seemed like it would open up to new flavors with time; I could have pictured it alongside grilled vegetables, pasta dishes, or a cheese plate. I also tried 1701’s still Chardonnay, fermented in amphora, which had a smoky stonefruit nose, and was mineral and light on the palate, with lip-smacking acidity.

In the cellar, we tasted some of the freshly pressed juice, as harvest had just begin. The Chardonnay had lots of acidity and was just beginning fermentation. The Pinot Noir had just been pressed and was juicy and fruity; they were getting ready to add fermented grape must to kickstart the process.

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All sparkling wines at 1701 are hand-riddled–the total production is 5-6000 bottles per year. It’s possible to find them in the UK via Cave de Pyrenes. I don’t think they’re currently in the U.S.

Another great experience was tasting through the wines of Arcari + Danesi, a project of Giovanni Arcari and Nico Danesi, and one of the first Franciacorta wines I’d tried in New York, imported via Indie Wineries. I met with Arianna and Alex, as Giovanni and Nico were out of town.

The Arcari + Danesi project was born in 2007/8. They are well known for their “Solo Uva” wine, which omits sugar entirely, and which they first made in 2011. “Solo Uva” is a Chardonnay with only grape must to accelerate the secondary fermentation in bottle, rather than using sugar as is the norm worldwide, and with must again at disgorgement, instead of dosing with sugar. As you see above, there are two Solo Uva wines, one Brut and one no-dosage; then there are two standard wines and then there’s a vintage reserve.

I found that the Arcari + Danesi 2013 basic Dosaggio Zero was really singing; it had intense mineral notes, bright acid, and a fruit basket of lemons and peaches. I think it will age very well. It’s 90 percent Chardonnay, 10 percent Pinot Blanc, and spends over 30 months on the lees. The Solo Uva wines spend about 24 months on the lees.

Overall, the Arcari + Danesi wines are bottled at lower pressure, compared to other Franciacorta producers–around 4 or 4.5 atmospheres, versus 5-6. This is simply what they prefer. Generally speaking, it’s what I prefer, as well. Sprkling wines at lower pressure are, in my experience, are more vinous and food friendly.

Although it seems that most Franciacorta producers stick to stainless steel fermentation, one notable exception to the rule is the organic estate Mosnel, where barrel aging in French new oak is the norm. Out of their line-up (see header image), the 2012 Satèn was one stand-out; it wasn’t captivating me at all the wineries but the Mosnel approach, using 100 percent Chardonnay, aging 60 percent in horizontal tanks and 40 percent in barrels, delivered a wine with rich fruit, and strong acidity, offset by 6 grams of dosage. Overall, the wines at Mosnel (imported to the U.S with David Bowler Wines) have chewier textures and more toasty notes than wineries that don’t let the wine ferment or rest in barrels.

Monte Isola

Franciacorta has a lot of potential; although most producers actually export a relatively low percentage of production, the wines can be found at Italian restaurants abroad, and of course you can enjoy the wines in Italy. If you’re in Milan,, it’s a quick day trip to Franciacorta; Lake Iseo is really beautiful and peaceful, with an island in the middle that you can stroll around on a sunny day, and various historical convents scattered around. And the food in the area is excellent. They have a special kind of sardine-like fish that comes from the lake called agone, which you’ll encounter in various pasta dishes around the area.

Pacchieri with agone

Looking forward to embarking on further studies in bubbles to share with you. xRachel

 

 

 

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Parisian Love Affairs & A New Wave Of Right Bank Bordeaux In April’s Wine Enthusiast

Guilhaume at Chateau Roland la Garde shows off their biodynamics manual

I have two (very different) pieces in this month’s Wine Enthusiast Magazine. First, there’s a short feature about producers in the Right Bank of Bordeaux, where the Côtes de Bordeaux appellation (created in 2009) is trying to establish itself as a new benchmark of quality–meaning, they are working toward healthier vineyards, and in some cases turning to biodynamic farming, or even, in the case of Chateau Roland la Garde, experimenting with amphorae winemaking. There’s a link to this feature online.

Then, in the back of the issue is a personal essay about a friendship with an American woman living in Paris, who wanted me to teach her about wine, or maybe just needed an ear to divulge about her unhappy marriage. At the moment, this one’s only in print. When there’s a link, I’ll tweet it out.

Thanks for reading!

The Article About Wine We All Hated, And The One You Need To Read

Verre Volé sign 2014
my favorite natural wine spot in Paris, Verre Volé

Recently, an article came out in the New York Times that really upset me; in fact it upset just about everyone I know and respect in the wine world. It was an opinion piece by a writer I know, someone I’m friendly with. My first reaction upon reading it was to feel betrayed. This is someone I’ve had a glass or two of wine with, and who I know attended RAW Wine Fair last fall in Brooklyn–which is partly why I reacted with confusion, rather than vitriol, at first. I wondered: did her agent persuade her to write this piece in order to get attention? (If so, congrats: it’s working, although I’m not sure it’s the kind of attention you want.) Also, do the author’s editors at the Times think they are being cute or smart, because natural wine is a so-called “trend” and it’s so adorable to be contrarian?

I think probably both of the above are true, and they are really disheartening to me. The desperation to sell a book should never lead to this kind of terrible, misguided journalism. And I know that a lot of editors and wine publicists like to call natural wine a “trend”; and flag it as some elitist circle of hipsters, and I have really had it with this attitude. Natural wine is a movement of people who believe in expressing what the earth says through grapes. True, sometimes they have a bit of a hipster swagger. And, yes, there are natural wines out there with tons of volatile acidity and perhaps they could have benefited from just a touch of sulfites. But you know what? Natural wine might be one of the last true hold-outs of free-thinking, libertarian, even slightly anarchistic political culture in the world, and for that it is beautiful. Nobody needs to ask permission to make natural wine the way they want to make it, and nobody is dying for you to like it.

At the same time, the movement does deserve recognition, and it is a good thing that it’s growing and spreading. Because for every single hectare that’s farmed without dangerous herbicides, pesticides, and fungicides, the soil is healthier, and the ecosystem is better able to thrive and to resist climate change–and the people who live and work around that vineyard are grateful. I know people like to point out copper’s harmfulness, and I also know that organic is not everything–with or without certification. Some winemakers I respect very much are not 100 percent organically farmed–but it’s not something they celebrate, as if they are proud to use chemicals. It’s the reality of the challenges of farming in certain climates. But I’ve stood in organically or biodynamically farmed vineyards, and it’s quite obvious that life is thriving within them: cover crops, butterflies, birds, rich and healthy soils are present, whereas I’ve also stood in a massive plantation of conventionally farmed Chardonnay in Sicily, at an unnamed winery’s estate, and gazed in horror at the cracked, dry, ugly ground. The difference is really just so obvious to see, and you can’t ignore it if you care about nature or the planet. Meanwhile, it’s also important to mention that “organic” or even “biodynamic” doesn’t mean a wine is made naturally; it’s still possible for additives to come into the picture. It also doesn’t mean that a wine is necessarily good.

People who work in mainstream wine PR, or older wine writers who seem befuddled by the natural wine movement, often ask me: “but how do you know it’s natural and that the winemaker isn’t lying to you? Aren’t people so easily fooled by marketing?” Here’s the thing: The natural wine movement is not about audits, or strict rules that determine whether you can be “inside” the club; it’s not even about cute labels only, although it does seem to excel in label design. The world if natural wine is, effectively, governed by relationships. Most naturally-working winemakers are part of a lineage–they worked for other producers who are in this movement. Their importers are constantly visiting them and providing insights from these visits (and I do these visits, too, whenever possible). The winemakers visit New York on a regular basis, to pour their wines and talk about what they do. There is no thick black curtain–meanwhile, corporate wineries do have such a thing, which is probably why they thought they were so clever, allowing Bianca Bosker the wine journalist to take a peek and report back to the public. Well, it’s not cute. It’s goddamn insulting. If people want to drink that shit, fine. I can’t stop anybody from eating disgusting chicken nuggets, or from buying factory-made clothes from China, either. But maybe what I can do is carve out a better space for wine writing that capitalizes on the incredible momentum that the natural wine movement has built. It’s not a trend; it’s hardly even niche any more–look at how many natural wine restaurants we’ve seen pop up around the U.S. in recent years! And they are continuing to open their doors, to much success.

One writer and natural wine importer has penned a great response to the Times opinion piece, which I really encourage you to read if you’re craving a view other than my own; he has written in an extremely approachable and sound way, and I’m grateful for it–check out Marko Kovac’s piece here.

And as some of you may know, I’m working on launching an independent print magazine this year–which will aim to produce really great, detailed, literary journalism about natural wines and terroir-driven foods. Stay tuned for details, and follow us on Instagram here.

Keep calm, carry on drinking great wine made by honest growers, join the ACLU, fuck Trump, and have a great weekend.

“Everything But Barrel” Winemaking (aka Wherever You Go, There Amphora Is)

I wrote for Wine Enthusiast magazine about all the ways to ferment wine–besides using barrels or stainless steel tanks. Of course, clay amphorae are featured, but also glass carboys, and concrete. Quotes from some pretty awesome winemakers. Check out the story here! And if you’re interested to learn more about amphorae wine, stay tuned for my trip to the Republic of Georgia in May! Thanks for reading.

Alexandre Bain And The Fight For Pouilly-Fumé: A vigneron literally stands his ground


alexandre-bainAlexandre Bain makes controversial wines. Often, people think his wines are “orange,” meaning that their amber-brown hue is derived from the Sauvignon Blanc grape juice staying in contact with their skins—but in fact, the hue is from botrytized grapes, and an oxidative winemaking process, both of which are extremely uncommon for the region of Pouilly-Fumé, where Bain makes wine. Since launching his own label in 2007, Bain now makes about 50,000 bottles per year from 11 hectares that he rents.

In 2015, the French entity INAO, who is tasked with regulating appellations all around the country, effectively kicked Bain out of the Pouilly-Fumé AOC. This interview, conducted in the New York office of his importer, Zev Rovine, outlines Bain’s approach to winemaking, and why he is fighting back against the INAO.

What’s the history of winemaking in your family?

My grandparents were farmers; they had cows and goats, and grew wheat. But nobody in my family was vigneron. I was interested in wine, so I studied at the viticultural school of Beaune, and then worked for Domaine Henri Poulet in Menetou-Salon; Flowers in Sonoma; also in Ventoux in the South of France. I also worked for Louis Latour, a big chemical producer [laughs], but it was interesting for me because it was my first job and I learned there how to prune and work with the tractor.

Somewhere along the way, you became interested in natural wine.

I became aware of organics through my mother, because all the time she cared for us with homeopathic medicine, and we ate organic food. When I was at school in Beaune, I also learned there about organics. I had jobs on the weekends, doing pruning, and I always tried to do it at organic estates just to get to know the philosophy. After that, I met [natural winemaker] Sebastian Riffault [in Sancerre] and told him I would start my own winery soon, and said I wanted to work with horses, rather than plowing with tractors. It’s very different working with a plow versus horses. I went to train with Olivier Cousin [who also works with horses] and I met other people like Benoit Courault, Jerome Saurigny, Réne Mosse—and I decided to work organically or biodynamically. To me, biodynamics help regenerate the soil faster. To make natural wine, you must work organic. Biodynamic for me is the best—especially when there is no life before you start.

Tell me about getting expelled from the Pouilly-Fumé appellation.

Puilly-Fumé, it’s a kind of brand. If you are at the limit of the border, or if you harvest by hand but ripened fruit [as opposed to underripe,] green Sauvignon Blanc, [you can be expelled]. When you have a little botrytis you have jammy fruits; to me this is more interesting to drink, more drinkable—in French, we say it is appetànt. It means if you smell it, you want to drink it. To make this kind of wine, you must make it with yellow fruit, pink fruit—not green fruit. But you cannot harvest this quality of fruit with a machine. Why? Because the machine moves the row. All of our vines are on still wires. If the machine moves, if the berries are ripened, whole berries will fall on the ground. So most people, when they use the machine, they harvest grapes still green. When they use this kind of berry, and sulfur is used in the fields and during fermentation, and they use yeasts, sugar, enzyme, tartaric acid, to me they make technological wine, and it’s a kind of brand. Everybody uses the same brand of harvest machine and sugar and yeast—so at the end, it’s a kind of brand. To me, if you do not use all of this, you make wine, terroir wine.

The official panel tasted your wine and told you it didn’t fit into Pouilly-Fumé?

They said, you mustn’t sell this wine, it’s not a Pouilly-Fumé because it’s oxidative.

What did you first feel or think when you got that phone call?

Fighting! I like all of my wines; they are not perfect but I work hard and try to do my best, and it’s a risk. The problem is, to me, I make a Pouilly-Fumé because I make a Sauvignon Blanc within the boundaries. I do not use fertilizer or yeast, I do not use sugar, I do not use yeast from Copenhagen. So, I make a Pouilly-Fumé. For French people, for vignerons, appellations mean something. Of course, it’s 2016, and we know that sometimes vin de france is better than appellation—but I care, so I’m fighting.

Where are you in the fight?

At this moment, I am fighting with the INAO. I’m waiting now for the trial to take place.

A Very Special, Soul-Lifting Week In France

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Olivier Cousin in his cellar in Martigné-Briand, Angers

Something that’s kept me going through this extremely disheartening and terrifying political situation we’ve found ourselves in, over the past few months, has been the knowledge that I had an upcoming trip to France. France, of course, has its own challenges and is now also in the midst of a corruption-inflected election cycle—but exploring the wine regions is a direct affirmation of the power of culture to persist, even in these times.

While the world seems to be crumbling under its own weight, small-production winemakers are managing to find better and better ways to work with terroir and deliver the most beautiful, purest juice. It’s inspiring to see people do something very well, with all the care they can muster, simply because it brings joy to them and others.

I started the trip in Champagne, and while my time there was short, it was also very productive—thanks to my friend the Champagne expert Peter Liem, who arranged some very special visits with growers. My appreciation of terroir-driven Champagne has grown enormously over the last six months, and I’m eager to learn more and more. Next, I took at 7:30am train out of Champagne to meet the Jenny & François crew in the Loire Valley, where a series of large wine fairs—La Dive Bouteille, famously held in the dramatic underground caves of Saumur; the biodynamic-focused Renaissance that Nicolas Joly organizes; Thierry Puzelat’s Les Penitentes; and Les Anonymes, which we didn’t make it to—took place over the course of three days. We visited a few producers around Angers—the legendary Olivier Cousin; and young Etienne Courtois—plus Renaud Guettier in the Coteaux du Loir further up north.

Some people in the industry have been attending these wine fairs for many years, and they complain about how big and difficult to navigate they’ve become, but for me as a first-timer, the whole experience was completely magical. It was especially satisfying to see that the 2016 Loire Valley wines, after an extremely difficult growing season resulting in drastically low yields, are wonderful—very nice concentration, flavor and acidity—despite being scarce.

After the tastings, I spent a few days in Paris, dropping too much money in restaurants seeing friends who live there, and stumbling around the beautiful pharmacies, shops, and cafés on the Rue de Martyrs.

I feel very privileged to be able to do all this, given that certain populations of the world are arbitrarily having their mobility restricted. In recent months, I’ve found myself wishing that I wrote about something besides wine and food and cocktails, so that I could feel like my words could form part of the resistance. But on this recent trip in France, I remembered that joy and pleasure are also vital parts of human existence; and I reflected on how the fight for terroir—to keep land healthy and chemical-free, and to discover the possibilities of soil and viticulture—is also a political act. A small one, yes—but small, in a world where lust and greed have gotten completely out of control, is exceptionally beautiful.

At the moment, I’m fighting off jet-lag with the help of some very good French melatonin, and sorting through material and thinking about stories to pitch and blog posts to write based on this trip. More to come soon.

The New Wave Of Oregon Natural Wine: Notes From Tastings

This summer, I tasted many exciting Oregon wines during a two-week trip that I pulled off with generous support from the Oregon Wine Board and Travel Oregon/Portland. I’m a little too amped up about some of these wines to wait for an editor to approve this story, so I’ll write briefly here about the naturally-working Oregon producers I’m most energized about. To keep things short, only one or two wines will be discussed, with the focus more on the overall project (if you’d like further tasting notes, please ask). Several of these producers have wines distributed nationally, and some are in New York as of just recently. Probably all of these producers are knee-deep in harvest right now! As of my trip to Oregon in July, it was looking to be a very “classic” growing season, so there are high hopes for the 2016 vintage. Note that all producers listed here are fermenting spontaneously, using low amounts of sulfur, and filtering minimally if at all. (For more on natural wines, please see my explainer on Esquire.com.)

Jackalope

Jackalope Cellars: I tasted Corey Schuster’s wines alongside those of Sterling Whitted, below, both at the recommendation of Brianne Day. Corey wound up in winemaking after moving on from his engineering career in 2008. He wanted to do something completely different, and therefore got a job at the SE Division Collective (more on that here), where he helped with harvest and managed the wine bar. He now makes wine out of Brianne’s facility in the Dundee Hills, and is distributed in New York through Avant-Garde.

Of note: The 2015 “White” is a blanc de Cabernet Franc, which seems to be a theme in Oregon (Leah Jorgenson makes one that Jon Bonné has written about; St. Reginald Parish—see below—makes a blanc de Pinot), and originally Corey was even getting it from the same grower as Leah, that being Herb Quady in Southern Oregon, but he’s now moving onto new sources. The nose on this very unique wine is herbaceous, lemony, and floral; it’s refreshing and deeply textured on the palate with a hint of tannin. As well, the 2014 Cabernet Franc was a wine that I would order in a restaurant in a heartbeat—it’s sultry and sumptuous, with herbal notes and rich fruits, but also that singing acid. Corey aged the wine in older barrels with one new barrel mixed in there, and the fruit for this wine also comes from Herb Quady. Others tasted: 2015 Viognier, 2014 Pinot Noir from Crowley Station.

Holden Chardo

Holden: After working as the wine buyer for several Whole Foods locations in Oregon, Sterling Whitted studied winemaking at Schemeceda in Chehalem, worked harvests around the Willamette and helped out at Teutonic Wine Co in Portland, and came out with his own label in 2011. He feels strongly connected to the winemaking cultures of Northern Italy, and made a trip there to visit producers in those appellations, which was a pivotal experience for him. Hence, Sterling works with Dolcetto, something of a rare bird in Oregon, and makes a skin fermented Sauvignon Blanc in homage to Friulian wine. With his non skin-contact whites, Sterling practices “hyperoxidation,” a process where the wine is oxidized in lieu of adding sulfur at the crush pad; it browns the wine in the short term yet prevents “the enzyme polyphenol oxidase from functioning, which is the component in fruit that turns phenolics brown,” as Sterling explains it. Sterling works out of Union Wine Co, where those super trendy Underwood canned wines are made. Holden wines are in New York through MFW. Both Holden and Jackalope have some of the coolest labels I’ve seen in a while, designed by local artists.

Of Note: The 2014 Sauvignon Blanc saw one month on the skins, and was finished in a combination of stainless steel and neutral barrels. It’s a charmingly straightforward wine full of stonefruits and black tea notes, with balanced texture. The 2014 Chardonnay is particularly flavorful, with 10 months in barrel on full lees, showing beautiful white peach notes and lemon zest. Others tasted: 2014 Johan Vineyards Gruner Veltliner; 2014 Dolcetto.

St Reginald Parish

St. Reginald Parish: I’ve still never met Andy Young, but after I tasted his single-vineyard Pinot Noir wines in the fall of 2015, I linked him up with a friend of mine at Communal Brands and his wines are now brought into New York through them. But while the single-vineyard Pinot wines are great, I’ve really been enjoying Andy’s more experimental juice. I don’t know too much about Andy’s winemaking, but I hear he’s a really good drummer who finally settled in Portland after many years of touring with My Bloody Valentine and others. Once in Portland, he got a job at a wine bar (seems to be a theme amongst upstart producers, no?), and after tasting his way through some ’06 Willamette Pinots, thought he would give it a try. I believe the winery’s name has to do with the fact that Andy was raised by a Baptist preacher in New Orleans.

Of note: St. Reginald Parish makes a refreshing and tasty carbonic Pinot Noir, which New Yorkers can drink by-the-glass at The Dutch until it runs out. It’s really a summer wine, to be drunk chilled on a hot evening. I think this is his most successful wine at the moment, although his rosé of Pinot is very, very pretty and gluggable, the kind of rosé you would have with oysters, and his blanc de Pinot is quite interesting and full of personality. Something tells me that good things would happen if Andy got his hands on some Gamay. Also tasted: 2015 old vines Pinot Gris.

Jasper Cisco alsatian blendJasper Cisco: I met Justin Paul Russell during an IPNC event, and realized that he was working out of the SE Division Collective, so I tasted with him there during my visit with Kate and Tom. (Again, see the Vogue article if you’re wondering what this place is.) These wines are really interesting and even somewhat challenging. A few of Justin’s wines are made in an oxidative style, and I believe all the wines we tasted were sulfur-free; there’s some skin contact on the whites. Really fun juice. Currently not distributed in NYC, which I’m sure will change soon.

Of note: The 2015 “Gratus Bynum,” a blend of Riesling, Pinot Gris, and Muscat from vineyards way up in Washington, really captivated me. The small amount of residual sugar performed beautifully alongside the natural acidity from the grapes, which come from a 1400-foot-high site above the Columbia River. The smoky nose is followed by black tea compounds, married perfectly with that touch of sweetness.

Statera bottle

Statera Cellars: Another label coming out of SE Wine Collective. I requested some samples of Statera months back, after reading an article about their devotion to Oregon Chardonnay, something that is oft overlooked but, I think, on the rise as winemakers hone their approach to this grape and more is planted. Statera is a collaboration between two friends, Luke Matthews (assistant winemaker at Division Wine Co) and Meredith Bell (assistant winemaker at Omero Cellars, where Chad Stock is in charge). Their wines are in Jura bottles, on the basis that they retain the aromatics. 2014 was their first vintage. Zev Rovine is going to distribute Statera in New York.

Of note: I really like the 2014 Statera from Johan Vineyard Chardonnay. It was aged in only neutral barrels for 16 months, with sulfur only before bottling. The nose is very floral, and the wine boasts all the minerality and acidity that I think people are striving for with Oregon Chardo.

Hiyu Dave Ready_Rsigner

Hiyu Wine Farm: I was directed to Hiyu Farms, a biodynamic estate making some very unique wine that’s about to be released on the market, thanks to a publicist with a very good palate, Samantha Chulick. Nate Ready is a Master Sommelier who worked at The French Laundry and Frasca before intelligently deciding to make his own juice, which I am pretty sure is bound to become “the next big thing” because it lives in that sweet intersection of the artful, the intellectual, and the delicious. Nate is co-planting some very unusual grape varieties based on regional groupings, in effect creating a little map of the wine world (or at least, his favorite appellations) on the Hiyu property, located in the Columbia Gorge not too far from Portland. There’s Savoie, there’s the Rhone Valley, there are Iberian things happenings—it’s very cool. “Hiyu” is Chinook for “gathering” or “abundance.”

Of note: In bottle, I tried a very good skin-fermented Pinot Gris that seemed completely unfiltered—not sure of the vintage, as it was served during lunch and we didn’t get into details. In the cellar, I swooned for a 2013 Gewurtztraminer that saw a few days of skin contact before being tucked away into old barrels. (Nate seems to like letting his wine age in barrel for a long time.) It was smoky and full of stonefruits, not too weighty on the palate, lots of nervy acid. Other wines tasted: too many to note here.

I have more to write, in particular about my visits to Omero Cellars and Beckham Estate Vineyard, but these entail greater complexities than I’d like to delve into here, so please be on the lookout for these stories soon. OK, enough: go out and drink these fantastic wines!